Sunny Side
by CarbodiusMaximus
Summary: Human, Broken Society AU! Arthur Kirkland a successful business man in NYC finds himself in the middle of a whole lot of drama, dealing with Prostitutes, drug dealers, and runaways all because of one small event that he messed up. Over time he realizes that he has life pretty good for someone like him. TW: smoking, alcohol, mention of abuse, mention of death.
1. It's Always hard

**Arthur POV:**

I sighed buckling in my seat belt and starting my car. It's been a year since _she_ died and I'm still not over it; but since I am starting to recover I decided that I'd look through some of her old belongings I've kept in the attic. Once I finally got home I took a beer out of the fridge before going upstairs. Walking up the cold wooden steps sudden memories flooded my mind of all the happy times we had together.

_I had my hands held tight around her eyes blocking all possible vision, "Can I open my eyes yet?" She asked._

_"No, not yet," I replied chuckling. She was silent for a while until I released my hands; she opened her eyes and let out a small gasp of surprise._

_"Where are we?" She asked but knew too well where we were._

_"Our new home," I smiled and kissed her cheek._

_"Really?"_

_"Yes really."_

_"I love you."_

_"I love you too."_

A single tear rolled off my face, I guess I wasn't as over it as I thought. I set my now half empty beer bottle on the ground and pulled down the attic stairs. Dust filled the air making me go into a coughing fit. I grabbed my bottle and took a swig making it somewhat easier to breathe. I looked up into the dark room above my head and then I realized I was going to need a few more bottles. I walked back down stairs and opened the fridge, figuring I couldn't carry as many as I wanted I just took the whole case with me. Once back upstairs I took 3 out and climbed into the attic.

I fumbled around for the light string, almost tripping over a box. I pulled the string, a dull yellow light filled the room; It almost looked like something out of a horror movie. Dust filled my lungs once again _making_ me open another bottle and take a sip. I sat on the old dusty floor; I reached for the box nearest to me, and pulled it in front of me. The first thing I pulled out was a smaller box, a box full of pictures, _a box full of pictures I haven't seen before._

I figured they were pictures of her with an ex-lover since most of them were of her and a guy who's probably about my age now. I don't really have a problem with ex's which is honestly is a bit strange, and it could be because she's passed since then but this guy looks like a total douche. I mean just look at his stupid hair, I bet he spends two hours on it every day. I flipped through all of the pictures and opened another beer. Reaching into the box again and pulled out a sealed envelope addressed to me and opened it.

_Dear Arthur, 1/4/12_

_The doctors have just told me that my condition isn't promising, I have accepted the fact that I will die soon. I know this isn't what you want, and it isn't what I want but my time has come. I need to tell you something, you should be sitting down when you read this. I assume you've already seen the pictures of me and Francis but there's something else you don't know. I had a child with him; remember that year I went to California for business? I cheated on you and I regret every single thing I did there. His name is Matthew and currently he's 4 years old. I am so sorry._

_Last known contacts:_

_Francis Bonnefoy_

_459 Sunny Side Hotel, NYC_

_(***)495-43**_

_Love,_

_Amelia._


	2. Maybe A Bit To Hard

By this point I was in tears surrounded by at least 5 empty beer bottles, possibly more. First she goes off with some douche and _then_ she has a kid with him!? I am so angry! How could she do this to me? In a fit of drunken rage I threw a bottle at the wall furthest away from me, smashing it. I picked myself up off of the floor and down the two sets of wooden steps and onto the main floor. I tumbled into the kitchen and opened a drawer filled with 5 packs of cigarettes and 10 lighters.

Stumbling back into the living room I took a photo of me and her out of the frame, and in my drunken state of mind I had no idea what I was doing. I lit it on fire. I quickly walked back into the kitchen and threw it in the sink. I watched it burn, slowly but surely. Tears were streaming down my face as I remembered that It was one of the few pictures of us we had. I tried to stop the flame but it only seemed to be getting worse since I was drunk, trying to blow it out seemed like the best idea.

My phone ringing took me out of my haze as I walked back into the living room to answer the call. "Hello?" I answered, my voice slightly slurred.

"Mr. Kirkland?" a voice asked on the other line.

"Who is this?" and when they didn't answer I started to get annoyed, "I'm hanging up—"

"No! Wait! It's Elizabeth, from the day care."

"Oh no," I looked at the clock, I was 30 minutes late. "I'm sorry I'll come right away."

"Mr. Kirkland are you sure? I can bring Alfred to your house; we have your address on file."

"Can you? Oh that'd be great, fantastic even. Thank you." I sighed in relief, I didn't want another DUI.

"Oh it's not a problem sir; I'll be there in 15 minutes, give or take."

I woke up on the couch at around noon, "Ugh, god, what time is it?" I thought aloud. I had a headache and Alfred was crying which made it even worse. Trudging up the stairs and into his room I changed his diaper. "I bet you're hungry huh?" I set him down on his feet to which he immediately started running as fast as he could without tripping. In the kitchen I fixed him a cup of apple juice and started making breakfast.

Once breakfast was done I packed Alfred a bag and walked out to the car, him in tow. I buckled him in his car seat and myself in the front seat. I didn't have to work today and I felt somewhat bad for leaving him at the daycare when we were supposed to be together today. I tried to remain emotionless on the outside while on the inside I was dying.

I dropped him off oat the day care and buckled my seatbelt once more. I opened the glove box and took out the address I had written down.

_Francis Bonnefoy_

_459 Sunny Side Hotel NYC_

_(***) 459-43**_


End file.
